


spar(ks)

by evenmyneck (stopmopingstarthoping)



Series: Hope's FE3H Smut Fics [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Banter, Canon Universe, F/M, Fingerfucking, Kinktober, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rough Sex, Sparring, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/evenmyneck
Summary: Leonie and Felix clash in the training ground.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Leonie Pinelli
Series: Hope's FE3H Smut Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571464
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	spar(ks)

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Felix is trans here; the words dick, erection, and lips are used to describe his anatomy. 
> 
> Please read at your comfort. Thank you!

"Lances are worthless. Get yourself a sword."

The sneer seeps through Felix's teeth and makes Leonie grip her lance even harder. 

"I'll show you worthless, you…" The words are lost in the fierce clack of one weapon against another as she blocks a sword strike and dances into position, tossing sweaty hair out of her eyes. 

Felix takes low, crouching, soundless steps past her, and she shifts her weight and taunts him.

"Come on, then. Scared of a lance?" The lilting tease in her own voice surprises Leonie a little. She leans forward to glare at Felix, but she has to dart back when he whips his sword down, hard. Blunted or not, that would have cracked her skull.

She whirls around and makes contact again, a fierce grunt Felix's only retort. 

He chases her out of the sparring ring, and she skips back, off balance and looking to gain a better position. 

Unfortunately, her shoulder makes contact with a hard stone wall first. 

Felix is on her in a flash, pressing his sword into her neck. His expression changes minutely as he looks at her, but she doesn't take time to consider it before kicking at his ankle, hard. He stumbles, but doesn't fall.

Not yet. Leonie is quick enough with her lance to spin it around herself and strike him, using momentum to knock him down. That's more like it.

"Down doesn't mean out." Now it's her turn to point her weapon at his chest. She watches a single bead of sweat trace the curve of his jaw and slide back into dark, dampened strands. 

Felix makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment Leonie braces herself against being kicked, losing the upper hand again. 

Instead, she hears his sword clatter to the dirt moments before rough hands grip her hair and the smell of sweaty skin fills her lungs. Her grip slackens on her lance in surprise, and he uses the opening to dart up and around it, pulling her face close to his. 

He doesn't kiss her, though. Why the hell not? His breath teases at the surface of her lips, suddenly sensitive. 

She meets his eyes and nods, ever so slightly.

The kiss is bruising, biting, harsh, and it makes Leonie growl a little. She flings her lance aside without looking and cups both her hands behind Felix's head, pulling him in for more and shoving her tongue into his mouth.

When they finally break away, breathless, he looks down and to the side, suddenly sullen.

"I'm...sorry, that was...wrong, probably. I like you."

Leonie lets out a peal of rough laughter and puts her hands on his shoulders. 

"I like  _ you.  _ Do you think that means I want romance and...fucking flowers?" She slams him back against the dusty ground and watches a rueful smile grow slowly across his face.

He's almost lazy when he says, "Yeah, I guess not," and she should have  _ known _ better, she's seen this slow fluidity in his attacks so many times before he strikes—

But it's really not that bad, is it, to be on her own back and under him now? His lips are at her neck, now, and moving lower, biting and sucking as he goes. It makes her body taut with pleasure and excitement, and the little stings of pain send a rush between her legs. She props a knee and smirks with satisfaction when he grinds against it. His neediness feels like scoring a point, and she presses in harder. 

Their bodies press together and Felix slides back up to claim her mouth; he yanks her shirt out of her waistband and she grins, a satisfied little thing, and then gasps as her skin is exposed to the air. 

She shoves her hand down the front of his pants and he's as wet as she is. More. She blinks at him, devious, and dips a finger between his lips to spread it around. His dick is a little bigger and harder than her clit, so she runs her fingers across it, around it, underneath, watching him closely. 

He’s above her, still, and his ponytail trails over his shoulder to dangle in her vision. A shuddering breath escapes a pale throat and his hands tighten at her breast, her hip. She yanks his pants down in response. 

" _ Fuck _ , Leonie."

Her name sounds so good in that breathy, strained tone. She wants to  _ ruin  _ him. She levers one shoulder up and throws him off her, scrambling to cover his body with her own. It isn't elegant and it isn't refined but it is raw and fierce and she grabs his chin and kisses his mouth again, hard. Her fingers retrace their path and he gasps.

"Harder. Come on." Felix is flushed and impatient. 

She pulls back and wipes a strand of dark hair from his cheek. 

"Is, inside okay?" Her own cheeks feel hot.

He nods, a quick succession of small movements that accompanies a tilt of his hips up, seeking more of her touch. She parts his lips gently and eases a finger tip slowly around his opening. 

Holy shit, he feels amazing inside. Slick and hot and plush; her finger probes and his hips buck and twitch.

"Stop—stop dancing around it."

A possessive, slinky mood captures her then, and she moves over Felix to kiss him again, but teasing this time, her fingers continuing to work.

"Yeah? You want it hard? Why am I not surprised?" She lets the words trickle and wisp out against his lips as she continues her lazy rhythm, feeling Felix's feet kick against the ground. Not giving him what he wants makes her feel a little power-drunk, and she savors it. 

He shoves her bra aside and palms her breasts roughly. 

She continues pushing her fingers inside and rubbing her thumb against his erection; she wants to get her mouth on that sometime, she thinks, but Felix is slamming back against her thrusts already. She angles herself over his body, putting more and more of her weight behind the sharp shove of her fingers against the slide and grip of him. Goddess, he's gorgeous, Leonie thinks, as a high-pitched sound dangerously close to a whimper flies out of his throat. 

"Huh, you're pretty fucking eager for it, aren't you?" Her tone is a lot more fond than the words would suggest; he looks so delicious underneath her. 

His eyes and legs slam closed together, and a big wave rocks through him. She looks down just as Felix's expression breaks into a burst of tortured bliss; his moans sound just as pretty as the scrape of his sword against her lance. 

She's about to get up, bra askew and shirt hanging open. She presses a palm down into the dirt, and strong fingers lock themselves around her forearm. 

"We're not done, here." He sounds equal parts wrecked and determined, and Leonie throbs in her underclothes. He flips her even as she's wiping her hand on her skirt, and she throws back her head and lets out a rough laugh. Felix moves in, muffling the sound with needy lips and nipping teeth. 

"What if somebody comes by?" Her voice is breathy and sounds strange in her own ears as Felix sets her skin humming, even more than it was before. 

"You weren't worried about that before, were you?" His tongue darts out against her nipple and she gasps; she's pretty worked up at this point. 

"It's nearly sundown. If someone walks in, they can just walk back out again."

Leonie's answering laugh catches and breaks into a moan, and Felix growls an answer from between her breasts. 

The velvet curtains of night have long fallen before either of them relinquishes their hold. 

They call it a draw; they'll fight again. 


End file.
